Chapter 3 A Better Mother

SOPHIA'S POV

I left the main house.

My wolf stirred restlessly in my chest, but my steps were firm. I refused to look back at that cold, imposing structure.

When I arrived at Damian's private residence-Ashley's current homes-and stepped inside, her scent enveloped me immediately. A hint of milk and lavender, the shampoo I used to choose for her.

I hurried upstairs and pushed open her bedroom door.

She was sitting at her craft table, drawing. She looked up at the sound.

"Ashley!"

I rushed to her, pulling her into my arms. My daughter. The child I nearly died to bring into this world. I couldn't help but press a flurry of kisses to her cheek. Her scent was the only pure thing left in my life. I had missed her so much.

"Mom, that's gross." She wrinkled her little nose, wiping her cheek.

I smiled, though the comment stung. "I'm sorry, baby. I've just missed you so much."

She just shrugged, as if my longing were unnecessary, as if the months apart meant nothing.

My wolf whimpered low inside-a pup should crave her mother's scent, her warmth, her closeness. But Ashley simply sat back down and resumed sorting her crayons.

"How have you been?" I sat beside her. "Did you sleep well last night? Are you eating enough? You-"

"Mom." She cut me off, not even looking up. "I want to go to East Street Preschool. Aunt Tiffany says it's the best."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

Aunt Tiffany.

She said it so casually, so familiarly, as if... as if that woman were the one closest to her.

"If you want to go, I'll enroll you," I said, forcing a smile.

Ashley nodded, but showed no excitement. She didn't even smile at me.

I took a deep breath, choosing my next words carefully.

"Sweetheart... Mom was thinking... would you like to move back and live with me?"

I couldn't bring myself to be direct yet, not ready to tell her we were leaving this place for good.

She finally looked up at me, confusion in her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because..." My voice trembled. "Because I miss you. I want to see you every day. I want to read you bedtime stories, have breakfast with you..."

"But Aunt Tiffany reads to me," Ashley said. "Her stories are way better than yours."

Each word was a knife, precise and cruel.

"And," she continued, a hint of disdain in her tone, "you're always crying and sad when you come. Aunt Tiffany says it's because you're not well."

"Ashley..."

"Aunt Tiffany never cries," she interrupted. "She's strong. She says I have to be strong too, not weak like you."

Every syllable was a laceration. My wolf flinched violently, a growl rumbling deep in my consciousness. Tiffany had been poisoning my child, twisting her perception of me.

"Baby, that's not true," I said, struggling to keep my voice even. "Mom isn't weak. Mom is just..."

"Aunt Tiffany says you're afraid to have babies, that's why you won't give me a brother." Ashley's gaze turned cold. "She says you're selfish."

I froze.

"I'm not afraid." My voice shook. "Ashley, when I had you, I almost died. But I never regretted it for a second. I-"

"Aunt Tiffany says that's because you're fragile," Ashley cut in again. "But she says she's strong. She can give Dad a brother. She says if Dad marries her, I could have a brother."

My hands clenched into fists.

"Ashley, listen to me-"

Her smartwatch lit up. Tiffany's name flashed on the screen. Her eyes immediately brightened with an excitement I had never seen directed at me.

"It's Aunt Tiffany!" she cheered.

I reached for the watch. "Ashley, we're not finished talking-"

"It's important!" She clutched the watch to her chest, looking at me with a hostility that was almost alien.

I recoiled.

That look, that posture... as if I were a stranger trying to hurt her.

"Fine," I forced myself to stand. "You have five minutes."

I walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind me. Leaning against the hallway wall, I took deep breaths, trying to calm the storm inside me. But the pregnancy had heightened my hearing. My wolf senses, already sharp, were now nearly uncontrollable. Even through the door, I could hear Ashley's voice with perfect clarity.

"Aunt Tiffany, I miss you so much..."

My breath hitched.

"I want to hear the bedtime story you tell..."

"I like your hugs better..."

"Mommy said she might have a baby. But Aunt Tiffany, I don't want Mommy to have one. She said it hurts. You should have the baby instead, okay?"

My wolf convulsed as if kicked in the ribs. A hand flew to my mouth. I slid down the wall, sinking to my knees on the floor. Tears welled up, too fast to stop.

Ashley saw Tiffany as her mother.

Not me. Not the one who carried her for nine months, fought for her, nearly died for her.

Tiffany had taken my husband. Now she was taking my child.

My fingers pressed hard against my lower abdomen. The wolf within me whimpered, sharing my grief.

A suffocating feeling rose. I pushed myself up, staggering toward the balcony. I needed air. I needed to breathe.

With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed Damian.

He rejected the call.

I dialed again.

Rejected again.

A third time.

This time, he answered, his voice thick with annoyance.

"What is it, Sophia? I told you-"

"You need to come home. Now," I cut him off, my voice so cold it surprised even me. "It's about Ashley. This can't wait."

"I'm in a meeting. This can-"

"If you don't come," I interrupted again, enunciating each word, "I swear I will walk right up to the reporters outside your office and give them a front-row view of the father and Alpha you really are."

Silence.

Then, a low growl. "I'm on my way."

I hung up.

Standing by the window, I watched the driveway, my heart pounding.

Minutes later, a sleek black luxury car pulled in. I expected Damian to get out alone. But Tiffany stepped out of the passenger side first. She was holding Damian's arm, carrying herself like she already owned the place. Like she was the Luna of this pack.

My wolf bared its fangs.

This was deliberate. She knew I was here. She wanted me to see.

"Aunt Tiffany!"

Ashley's shriek came from downstairs. Before I could react, she had burst out of the house and thrown herself into Tiffany's arms.

The sheer joy, the unbridled delight on her face-it was something I had never seen directed at me.

Tiffany lifted her easily. Over Ashley's shoulder, her eyes met mine, a smile of pure victory curling her lips.

Something inside me snapped.

I rushed downstairs, striding toward them. "Put my daughter down."

"She came to me," Tiffany said sweetly, gently patting Ashley's back. "What was I supposed to do? Reject a child's affection?"

"You have no right to touch her!" My voice shook. "She is my daughter. Not yours!"

"Sophia, calm down," Damian finally spoke, his tone dripping with impatience.

"Calm down?" I whirled to face him, staring in disbelief. "You want me to calm down? Look at what she's doing! She's holding my child in front of me, and Ashley-"

"Ashley likes her," Damian stated coldly. "What's the problem?"

"The problem?" A hysterical laugh nearly escaped me. "The problem is she's replacing me! She's making Ashley believe she's the mother!"

"Perhaps," Damian's icy gaze locked on me, "perhaps she would be a better one."